Genderbend
by spangelbanger
Summary: Sam and Dean find a case, guys are disappearing, girls are turning up dead by their own hands. They check into it. There's no shipping in this fic. No more wincest than is in the series. Dean is Dean. Sam is freaked. It's fun.


The red glowing letters on the clock read 2:00am. The dark house was completely quiet except for the soft sobbing from the bathroom. Behind the locked door the house only occupant sat curled around herself. Her hair was a tangled mess. A too large t-shirt was hanging past her thighs. She was practically swimming in material. Bitten down fingernails picked at the loose fit shirt like she was going to unravel it one thread at a time. She picks up the pen she had brought in here with her determined to at least leave a note, but who would she even write it to. Everyone thought she was dead. In a way she was. She put the cap back on the pen. Some habits never die no matter how pointless they are. She dropped it on the counter and felt the resolve flowing through her veins. There was comfort in knowing this nightmare would be over soon. She tied a rope around the curtain rod. Took a steadying breath and she pulled it tight feeling it cut into her neck. A strangled gasp and she felt the air flow being cut off. It seemed like forever before the darkness over took her vision and she slipped into unconsciousness. Minutes later the clock read 2:19 and there was no life left in the dark house.

"I think I found a case," Sam was leaning against the trunk of the car, his laptop on tilted at an awkward angle to fight the glare of the sun. They had stopped at a convenience store off the interstate, neither of them knew the name of the town. Dean knew all he need to know. It had a gas station and a sign in the window advertised Fresh Baked Pies.

"Okay."

"Twelve missing people in two months. This morning a girl was found in the home of one of the men that disappeared. She hung herself."

"Ex girlfriend?"

"No one had ever seen her before," Sam said, "I don't know something just seems off."

"We'll check it out." Dean tossed him a bag of chips. "Don't get crumbs in the car."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, you say something seems off, I trust you, let's hit the road before it gets dark."

Sam and Dean were in the morgue. A place they had spent way too much time in during their lives. Sam was pouring over the examiner's report while Dean was pacing around the room poking at various crap that caught his attention.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam's whisper was actually pretty loud.

"Yeah?"

"Look at this."

"Okay, what am I looking at?"

"I'm going to read off some identifying marks. Let me know if you find them. "

"'kay."

"Surgical scar, should be on the stomach."

"Surgical scar." He moved the sheet down and whispered to the dead girl"Sorry about this. Just checking for scars." He looked up at Sam "Surgical scar, check."

"Birth mark, right knee."

"Yep."

"Okay, last one, Celtic cross, left arm."

"Hey, that looks awesome." Dean covered the body back up "Yeah, so we found one of our vics?"

"Yeah," Sam looked up at him, "Robert Kane." He handed over the file, "male, 20 years old, went missing two months ago."

"Male?" He glanced down at the sheet covered form "You want to check for that?" Sam gave him a look "Right." Dean peaked quickly then made a sound that bordered on relief, "definitely female." He let the sheet fall back down, "so what are we dealing with?" he asked, "I mean two months ago this guy is turned into a chick and then she kills herself?"

"Looks like it."

"But what can do that."

"Magic? A good surgeon?" Sam shrugged, "I'm not sure what else."

"Research mode?"

Sam nodded, "just remind me not to piss off whatever did this."

"Awe, Sammy I think you would be a beautiful girl."

"Jerk," Sam rolled his eyes not any real heat behind the words.

"Bitch," Dean responded automatically, "hey, you think any of the other missing people have turned up with the wrong equipment?"

"It's possible." Sam said looking through other files looking for something that seemed out of place. "That's strange."

"Stranger than this?"

"Well no, but in the past six weeks there have been five unidentified bodies brought in. All apparent suicides."

"So more like our friend here?"

"Possibly." He flipped through the files "All female, ages estimated between seventeen and thirty, no identification, no missing persons reports, on them at least, and nothing. It's like they didn't exist and then they were dead."

"You said all female?"

"Yeah."

"But your missing persons, those weren't all men?"

"No, it was eight men and four women."

"Any John Doe's in that stack?" Dean asked.

"No, they're all women."

"Of course they are," Dean looked smug. "Ready to play match the corpse. See which ones are probably still alive? Maybe we can stop the next one before he," Dean made a slicing motion across his throat.

"Except we have no ideal where to look."

"Yet," Dean said, "we'll find something. We're good at this."

"I don't know why I have to go over this again," the girl they were questioning, Kathy, was sulking, "I already told the police what happened, Why can't you just get the statement from them."

"We will," Dean promised turning up the charm, "but we'd like to hear it from you first, it gives a fresh perspective instead of reading what someone else wrote down."

"I don't know what to tell you. Tony just didn't come home. I thought that maybe he had gone to stay at his mom's. Then she called a few days later and said that he hadn't been answering her calls. She filed the missing person's report."

"So the day that he disappeared, was there anything strange?" Sam asked his pen posed over the notepad.

"No, he was just heading to class said he had a project he was working on and he might be late getting home."

"And that was it?" Sam asked scribbling down what she'd said.

"I don't know." She looked irritated again, "something to do with genetics. I tend to zone out when he starts his techno babble."

"Where are his classes."

"The only university in town. It's the building with the clock that can been seen from everywhere in the city limits. You literally can't miss it."

"For someone whose boyfriend just disappeared you sure don't seem too torn up about it."

"Gross. He's like my brother."

Dean's skeptical questioning look forced her to elaborate, "also, I am not his type."

"So what is his type."

"Well, let's just say you're more his type than I am" she smirked.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You know for him to be 'like your brother' you still don't seem very upset."

"What can I say, I'm bad with family," she pulled out a thin black cigarette and lit it, "do you mind?"

"Your house," he said.

Sam gave him a look that demanded he learn to behave, "just one more question. The day he disappeared, or maybe sometime around then did you see anyone you don't know hanging around the house?"

"A woman maybe," Dean supplied helpfully.

"No," she glanced at the door, "Look I really have to go!" Her voice took on the slight rise of someone on the verge of panicking.

"Yeah, sure just, if you think of anything. Call me." Dean slipped her his card. "Or if I can buy you a drink. You call," he winked at her to make his meaning clear..

She grinned a little, "we'll see," her car keys in hand she followed them out the door.

They went to the impala and waited until she drove away. Without a word to each other they both got out of the car at the same time. Dean picked the lock while Sam kept an eye out. With a low click the door opened and they slipped inside.

"So assuming he didn't have time to take anything with him. We should be able to get onto his computer."

"Should?" Dean arched his eye brow at him the question clear on his face.

"If he's half as smart as she thinks he is he probably has a password on it."

"So we'll just take it with us."

The college was closed for the night. Not that it really mattered they had gotten in by flashing their FBI badges and a quiet whisper of abuse of federal funding. The science lab had been easy to find and they had been left to their own devices.

It hadn't taken long to find a stack of manilla folders with names and dates written on them coinciding with the missing and the dead.

"What are you doing here?" the mad scientist himself had managed to catch them still in his office.

"Going through your private records," Dean said calmly, his eyes not leaving the files. "You know you have a file here for every single individual that's gone missing in the past month. Now I'm pretty sure that means you have some clue what happened to them."

"You don't understand," he took an unsteady step backwards working his way toward the panic button.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sam said wrapping his hand around the guys arm jerking him away from the red button on the wall. Rage practically radiating off of him.

He shoved the man toward Dean roughly in a well timed, fluid movement Dean swiped his leg out from underneath him slamming the guy face first into the cooler.

The cooler rocked back under his weight hitting the wall. It bounced under the force rocking back onto the legs. The color coded vials in the cooler slid off the shelf landing on the floor between Dean and the man shattering upon hitting the floor. Smoke rose off the spilled contents filling the room as flames burst into existence.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled jumping back, "door."

Sam headed back the direction they had came in, pulling his shirt over his face to keep from breathing in the smoke. Dean was a couple steps behind him as they made it into the hallways. They stopped around a corner checking to see if they were being followed both breathless.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good, a little dizzy but good," Dean straightened his jacket, "let's get out of here."

They headed toward the door made it a few steps before Sam whimpered, "Dean, I think something's wrong." He fainted like someone turned off a light switch sliding down the wall he had leaned against landing on the tile.

"Sammy!" Dean slid down next to him, "hey, come on Sammy." His own vision had blurred and he fought to stay conscious. It was a fight he just couldn't win.

Dean felt a hard mattress underneath him; his head resting on what felt like a folded blanket. He groaned rolling over onto his back. His head throbbed so he reached a hand up and ran it over his forehead hoping the contact would ease the insistent pressure. Soft, long hair threat through his fingers. "What in the hell," He muttered running his hand down the length. It was much longer than he liked it. His first thought was that he'd somehow switched bodies with this brother. He could deal with that. Maybe.

He sat up slowly careful not to pass out again. Something didn't feel right but he couldn't quite place what it was. Fingertips dragged hesitantly along the wall searching for a light switch. Instead finding the pull cord for the light when it brushed against his shoulder. Dean yanked it hard the light flooded the cramped space. A quick assessment told him was still wearing the same clothes but they were practically falling off of him. He glanced down, "Fuck. Not Sammy," he muttered reaching under his shirt to run a hand over the new shape. He made a sound that could have sounded like a groan but it was high pitched and little more than a whimper. His hand went down into his jeans following the muscled planes down to the v of his legs. "Son of a bitch!" He yelled, "what the hell was in that smoke?"

He pulled his jacket back on and zipped it up letting the coat act like armor. He didn't normally zip it but this time it felt better that way where the material may have swallowed him but it disguised the changes well enough he could ignore it for now. He examined the door before reaching for the handle. The cool metal turned in his hand but the door didn't open. He pushed against it, the lack of movement suggested there might be something blocking it. He was checking the hinges when the door pulled open.

The guy from the lab was back only this time with a gun trained on him.

"You must really be stupid," he said, "you don't mess with chemicals in a science lab. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Well honestly I was thinking that maybe there was an evil genius working there that had figured out how to turn girls into guys and guys into girls, and hey, what do you know? I was right."

"You're an idiot if you think I have control over this," the disgust was clear in his voice.

"It's your lab."

"It's not my experiment," he said lowering the gun, "I'll explain but you have to stay calm."

"Calm? People are dying and you want me to stay calm?"

"Yes," he argued, "I want you to stay calm because I need your help."

"Okay," Dean sat up straighter, "start talking."

"The experiment was started by a grad student named Tony. He was brilliant. Everything you could want in a scientist, he wanted to change the world. The thing is it was suppose to only work when injected. Instead if you touch it, breath it, get anywhere near it. You're effected just the same."

"Fine, break out another vial and change us back."

"It doesn't work that way. It's a one time switch." He stood up and started pacing, "I've been working on a reversal but it's like half the notes are in a dead language. It's kind of hard to get a linguistics expert working this kind of project without asking a lot of questions I don't know how to answer."

"Dead language?"

"Yeah I don't even know what it is."

"I might know someone that can help," he said, "but first, where's my brother."

He looked down, "across the hall, but I don't think he's taking the change as well as you are," he stopped, "taking it better than I did, but still that's not saying much."

"So you..."

"Joanna," she said offering her hand, "currently going by John."

"Good choice."

"Thanks," there was a slight smile that looked out of place on the face. She reached for the door, "I really am sorry about this."

There was a slight knock against the door and she opened it. Dean walked into the room eyes roaming over the form that was curled up on the cot. A leather cuffs tightly secured to her wrists. He recognized the clothes "Sam," Dean nodded to him, "you okay?"

"Great," he said closing his eyes.

"You ready to get out of here?"

"Not like this." Sam said, "fix it!" He glared at Joanna rage practically pouring off him, "you did this undo it!"

"I already told you I can't."

"Sam," Dean said trying to sound commanding enough Sam would just go with it, "we're going to fix it but we have to find Tony first."

"Tony?"

"The guy that started the experiment. The first one that disappeared."

"Great, that's assuming he hasn't put a bullet in his brain yet," Sam said with a frustrated whine.

"Do you mind?" Dean gestured to the cuffs.

She nodded, "yeah, sure."

Dean stepped out the door and out of the way while she unbuckled the restraints holding Sam down.

Sam walked out of the room his head throbbed, his wrists hurt, and everything felt wrong. He rubbed the red circles around his wrists where he'd been pulling against the restraints. It didn't help. A few steps and he could feel his jeans sliding down his hips. He shoved his hand in the pocket hooking a finger in his belt loop to hold them up. He glanced up and his eyes raked over the body in front of him. "Dean?" His voice was a shocked whimper it sounded almost like he was slipping into shock.

For a fraction of a second Dean stood in awe watching a shockingly gorgeous brunette walk out of the room. She was rubbing her wrist looking dazed. "Not bad," he smiled and handed over his knife, "here put an extra hole in that belt." He pretended not to notice the supple curves barely hidden beneath the now too large clothes. "You know, you really look much better this way."

"Shut up," Sam whispered practically whining now at least he was completely certain who was standing in front of him. He felt numb. For the first time he could remember shock seemed to be setting in. Not much registered beyond his brother was getting on his nerves.

"Come on Princess," Dean smiled at him, "we've got some leg work to do."

"What? Now?" Sam asked glancing at the doctor next to them.

"Yes now," Dean said gesturing toward the door, "We need to find the guy that started this experiment in science fiction before he does something stupid and we're stuck like this forever."

"Yeah, okay," Sam took a slow measured breath and tried to fight down the rising sense of panic.

Dean was kicked back on the bed in their hotel room a beer bottle balanced on his knee. He found his eyes drawn to where Sam was working on cracking the password on the laptop. It was surreal. He knew that look and had seen it a thousand times on a thousand different hunts, but on the new feminine face it looked completely different. Where normally he looked focused and determined now the way he licked his lip and stared with his mouth slightly opened, well it looked inviting. He closed his own. And repeated his new mantra _it's still Sam. _Over and over. Trying to force the words to sink in. Still he felt heat spreading up his stomach. Starting between his legs. He had already decided it was a weird feeling the wetness gathering there. He wondered what it would taste like. Sweet or bitter? He slid his hand into his pants under the pretense of scratching an itch. He pulled his hand back out quickly. Wrapping his hand around the neck of the beer and lifting it up to his lip. Instead of taking a drink though he ran his tongue over the delicate fingers, then took a long deep steadying swallow of the beer. Yeah. He could deal with that.

Sam glanced up from the laptop seconds later and Dean felt the blush rise to his cheeks. Christ that was close. "I'll be back," he choked out all but scampering off the bed and into the bathroom.

Sam stared at the door and then heard the soft gasp. He paled, Dean was probably masturbating. How could he be doing that now? With everything that was happening he couldn't seriously be trying to get off. Sam shifted uncomfortably in the seat. A seam rubbed against him wrong and he shivered involuntarily. He pushed whatever thoughts were trying to work their way into his head out and focused instead on getting into the email address. It wasn't hard the laptop had a saved password option that was opened with a click of a button.

The bathroom door opened slowly and Dean walked out with a towel wrapped around his body. Another tangled around his hair.

"Um Dean?" Sam whispered sounding a bit like he was still in shock.

Dean smiled at him clearly flushed and satisfied, "yeah?"

"Clothes."

"Yeah, working on it," Dean said smiling at him brightly, "You know I was thinking that we should go pick up some stuff that actually fits."

"Why?" Sam asked looking at him skeptically.

"Well there's no telling how long this is going to last," Dean pulled a t-shirt over his head and it felt good soft worn cotton against his skin, "I'll go pick up some things while you finish your research."

The sun warmed seat was a welcomed familiarity. Dean turned up the radio blaring out Thunderstruck. The light turned red and he slammed on the brakes. Weren't those fucking things suppose to cycle through yellow before turning red? His irritation probably didn't have very much to do with the faulty stop light. A jacked up pick up pulled up next to him. The engine revving. He glanced up to see a couple guys grinning at him. He smiled and let his foot rest on the gas a little the growl loud enough to drown out the radio. The answering rev was a challenge. He grinned looking forward to the pretty much guaranteed win. His eyes turned to the light waiting for it to change back to green. As soon as it did he left the truck in the rear view. Satisfied he pulled over to refill Baby's tank at the first gas station he saw. The pick up pulled in beside baby stopping just outside the swing of the door. The engine revving to get his attention.

He opened the door and turned one foot resting on the door frame. The driver got out and came around leaning against the passenger side. He asked casually, "does your boyfriend know you're driving his car?"

For a second Dean almost felt confused before realizing what they were suggesting, "this is my baby." He said letting his hand land loudly on the roof of the car. "There's not a lot that can outrun her."

"We should rematch. Somewhere we don't have to worry about cops."

A burst of excitement ran through him at the thought of really getting to show off what she was capable of. But it had been along time since he was actually willing to risk his car in an off road, backwoods race track.

"Sorry guys, I've got to be getting home."

A hand wrapped around his arm, he attempted to shrug it off. The hand refused to budge. For the first time he realized that the changes weren't just in features he wasn't as strong as he had been. Not even close from the feel of it. He felt a burst of adrenaline, a sick thrill that almost reminded him of being on a hunt. He was surprised to realize there was danger here, much more than he had anticipated simply getting gas. The hand on his arm jerked hard, yanking him off balance. He'd been precariously standing on the door and instantly recognizes the mistake for what it was.

"Where do you think you're going honey, you can't just win a race like that then walk away without giving me your number."

"Oh I think I can."

"You fucking bitch," all pretense of civility melted from his face his eyes darkened. Not quite demon dark but it wouldn't be hard for them to go there. The hand around his arm tightened jerking him against the side of the truck "Why don't you get in here sugar and I can show you what a real man can do to a dyke like you."

"Fuck," he muttered he should have guessed. Exactly what he needed to make this day perfect. Dean grabbed the flask of holy water out of his back pocket and slung it into the guys face. Nothing happened.

A hand struck across his face splitting his lip, "You'll pay for that."

Dean twisted in his grip breaking free, "yeah well, put it on my tab." He stepped out of their reach falling into his fighting stance.

"Awe. Cute." The guy taunted a pocket knife slipping out of his pocket, "get in the fucking truck bitch."

"I don't think so," Dean smiled suddenly more comfortable. This he could handle. He pulled his knife out of his pocket.

The guy advanced and Dean danced around him. He smiled in triumph before he felt the jerk against his scalp where the guy had managed to get a handful of hair. Dean felt himself slammed against the hood of his car. A hand wrapping around his neck holding him down. He rolled his shoulders trying to knock the guy off balance. He just didn't have the strength to do it. Leverage then. He moved twisting out of his grip swinging his knife as he went surprisingly he managing to slice across the guys arm with the blade. It bled but there was no smoke. The guy jumped back clutching at his arm, "Crazy fucking cunt. We were just going to have a good time. But you had to act like a victim, like you don't want it."

"What the fuck are you?" Dean asked already knowing the answer. Some men are just monsters without supernatural influence. "Is this what you do? Just attack random women?"

"I didn't attack anyone, you just misunderstood me."

"Get the fuck away from me," rage was coursing through him. Everything in him screamed to kill the monster in front of him. The only problem, it was human. Still the idiot didn't understand that he had just bitten off more than he could chew, because this time he didn't find some weak girl to force into his truck. This time it was Dean god damn Winchester, and it would take a hell of a lot more than a couple drunk guys to kick his ass. As a lucky blow landed on his jaw he realized suddenly and completely that without his lifetime of fighting skills his attackers would have a serious advantage in sheer strength. As it was though Dean shifted easy turning what would have been a much more painful hit into a glancing blow. For a minute let himself revel in the fight. Not fighting for his life the way he normally did,just a fight to put a couple asses in their place. If it were possible he might think that he could move a little easier without his normal bulk slowing him down. The added agility was an interesting change. It didn't take him long to realize the punches that were landing might be weaker but they were hitting in a smaller area. He could feel the sting in his knuckles and knew they would have to be hurting. It seemed like a lifetime later when the fight ended. Not with them backing down but with a rolling flicker of blue lights on a patrol car.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked when Dean walked through the door.

"Assholes." Dean muttered wiping the blood from his split lip on his shirt, "some dick got offended when I won a race."

"You were racing?"

"Well yeah." Dean shrugged, "It seemed like a good ideal at the time."

"By the way, you need a hair cut," He dropped a piece of paper on the table, "I want you to find out everything you can about the guy that owns this truck. When this is over I need to pay him a visit."

"So what you're saying is?"

'That no one touches my car," Dean said simply, "I'm going to go take a shower."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and went back to what he was reading. His hand ran through his hair. At least that hadn't changed. Much. It was a few inches longer but he could live with that. There was the quiet sound that was almost like a hiccup from the other room. He closed the laptop and listened wondering absently what dean was doing in there. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks realizing he probably really didn't want to know. The sound of the water didn't muffle the sound of someone blowing their nose.

"Damn it," He said mostly to himself putting the laptop on the table. He forced himself to knock on the bathroom door, "you okay man."

"Fine," but the voice was cracked and was anything but fine.

"Dean, you can talk to me you know," Sam said, "we're kind of alone in this but at least we're in it together."

The water shut off and the door cracked open. The only sign that he was upset was the water clinging stubbornly to his lashes. "We," He gestured between them, "aren't doing the chick bonding thing. So shut it," Sam's breath came out in a flustered rush.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked.

Sam gestured at him vaguely, "please, go put on some clothes."

"Oh, right," He glanced down realizing he had tied the towel based on a lifetime of habit and it had ended up around his waist. "Sorry Sammy," he stepped back into the bathroom closing the door behind him.

Sam opened the computer back up. His hand tapping restlessly on the space next to the mouse. A few seconds later his leg picked up the rhythm.

"You okay?" Dean asked coming back out of the bathroom wearing sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. Though if he had to guess based on the way that shirt was clinging there wasn't much underneath it.

"I'm fine," Sam said, the voice coming out strained.

"Seriously you look, well I don't really have a word for how you look. I don't think I've ever seen you this freaked out."

"Dean. Do not try to talk to me about this. Not now, not ever."

"Ten minutes ago you were wanting me to tell you all about my problems and now you're the one that doesn't want to talk."

"A lot can change in ten minutes," Sam muttered his eyes darting back to his laptop trying to find some way to center himself.

"Not here, not with us. So you're going to tell me what's going on."

"I'm really not," Sam said meaning it.

"Oh, this is about the um," he cupped his hands up grabbing his chest, "yeah, I can understand that. Okay, tell you what, I won't wander around naked until this is over. Does that work for you."

"Thank you." Sam said in a whisper.

"I think there may still be some hot water if you want to take a shower," Dean was trying to appease him then smiled, "or not if that would be better."

Sam saw the opportunity for what it was, an escape. He took it gratefully slipping out of the chair and through the still open bathroom door. The mirror was still fogged up from the brief shower that Dean had taken. The room was slightly warm and humid. He felt the sweat start to break out on his skin. Sam pulled off his shirt and jeans. His hand reaching for his underwear before he stopped himself. He really wasn't comfortable with this. Okay, those would stay on, delay the inevitable for a few more minutes. He'd deal with the rest after he calmed down. He turned on the water not even bothering with the cold. Maybe the burn could help take his mind off of what had happened. The tub filled he sank down into the water. Feeling the weird unfamiliar sensation of being able to lie comfortably in a bathtub. The wet fabric clinging to his skin was distracting. Maybe he should have taken it off but he just wasn't ready to be that familiar with this body.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, "Hey Sam?"

"yeah," he called out

"Close the curtain okay." Dean said through the thin door.

Sam pulled it shut then yelled, "Okay," at least this was familiar.

He tried so hard not to listen to what Dean was doing. It was too familiar and too foreign at the same time. He knew that while it was his brother invading the bathroom to take care of business it didn't change the fact that physically the most beautiful woman he could remember seeing was pissing feet away from him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He reached for the shampoo to find it missing from the rack on the edge of the tub.

"Crap, Dean can you hand me the shampoo?"

"Yeah." Sam reached out of the curtain. Dean put it into his hand, then grabbed his arm. Catching his eye through the small opening in the curtain. "Hey Sam, I know you've always been kind of a freak, but do you normally shower in your underwear?"

"Seriously man?" Sam asked yanking his arm back.

"Look, I know that you are kind of understandably freaked out by this but Sammy, if they can't fix this you do realize this is your body now right? You own it. You can take your fucking clothes off. No one is going to judge you for it."

"I'm not okay with this." Sam didn't sound okay either.

"I don't expect you to be okay with it. I just expect for you to stop holding yourself to such a ridiculous standard. You're allowed to look. Hell, I did a lot more than look!"

Sam flushed again.

"The point is, dude, you are fucking gorgeous enjoy it." Dean said then started out toward the door, "I would say you need to get laid but I don't think you'd do it."

His glare was intense and familiar. Dean laughed, "Come on man, just relax a little."

Sam was sitting back at the computer again Dean was pacing waiting for him to come up with something or anything useful. "I think she's working in a strip club," Sam finally broke the silence.

"She?"

"Tony, um, Tina now according to her emails." He explained that Tina's sent emails included several applications as an exotic dancer. He opened the first sent application and downloaded the pic. "And we have a visual."

"She's hot," Dean said off handed.

"Two months ago she was a guy."

"So," Dean shrugged, "She's still hot." Sam looked at him like he lost his mind, "What did you expect me to start playing for the other side just because I'm rocking this body."

"I just thought you'd be a little more, subtle about it," Sam's said quietly.

"Dude, once in a lifetime experience."

"Yeah assuming Joanne can fix us."

"You know what, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. For right now though, strippers."

"Dean they won't even let you through the front door."

Dean smiled his eyes lighting up like he just got the best ideal ever, "Then I'll just go through the back door."

"No," The color drained from Sam's fave and was replaced with a green tint, "we're not doing that."

"Fine, you stay here and have your freak out. I'm going to go live a little."

"Dean, you can't be serious. You can't do this. For one, you can't dance, for two they want you to have a routine planned, and three, I can't believe we're even talking about this."

"Right, I'm going, you coming or not."

"I really don't want to leave this room. Ever really."

"Oh come on Sammy, it's not the end of the world," He thought about it and smiled, "For once."

"I think I prefer the world ending," Sam actually sounded like he meant it.

Getting in was so much easier than he had expected. Once through the doors Dean milled around watching girls changing from skimpy outfits into skimpier outfits. Some were staring into mirrors adjusting their makeup. Others were stretching loosening up their muscles for their routines. Dean approached the closest girl who looked willing to talk.

"Hi," he smiled in what he hoped was a shy, friendly way.

"Hi," she looked up and smiled, "you're new."

"I am," he agreed, "actually my cousin told me there might be a job opening. She was suppose to meet me here, but I haven't been able to find her."

"Oh, does she work here?"

"Yeah, at least I think so. Her name is Tina."

"Sorry, I don't know anyone named Tina. But she could have a stage name," She said, "You might talk to Joe."

"Who?"

"The Bartender, he's part owner, he usually takes time to get to know the new girls, make sure they know the rules."

"Rules?" He asked feigning curiosity.

She nodded "Yeah, you know, paying customers get whatever they want and all that." She blushed.

"So, Joe is like your pimp."

"No!" Her eyes went wide, "It's nothing like that," Her skittish look told him everything he needed to know. He had the strongest urge to punch the guy in the face even without meeting him.

"Hey, new girl," a guy in a black polo stepped toward him, "stop yacking and get ready you're up after Amber."

"Oh? I'm not actually..." What he was about to say was lost in a flurry of activity as the song ended and the next girl headed out. Right he didn't recognize the song but he figured what three minutes to get ready. Hell he could do that, "Who's Amber?" He asked and the girl obligated by pointing to a girl standing in front of a full length mirror checking the fit of her top.

A plan formed taking all of a minute. Dean slipped up to the sound booth and asked the DJ if he could play one of favorites. He moved around back stage with determination. It wouldn't be the best thing ever but he could still pull it off. His faded leather coat and well worn jeans were worked over a black string bikini. He just hoped that he could recreate from memory some of his favorite things. It was a weird thing to be about to dive head first into something he didn't quite know how to do. He slipped to the edge of the stage watching the girl doing her routine. It couldn't be that hard right? Most those jackasses around the stage were already hammered. The girl picked up her top and headed back toward him. Eyes raking over him "You're going to do great," She whispered with a wink.

The stage was cleared and the lights lowered. He felt as much as heard the first notes of Highway to Hell blaring through the speakers. Then he was moving driven as much by instinct as by thought.

"Well that was a bust."

"Man, I'm sorry," Sam let out a slow sigh, I guess it takes more than watching a lot of strippers to be one."

"No, that was great. I made like three grand."

Dean held up a bundle of bills and drop them back into his duffel bag. "Just, no one has seen our guy. Girl. Whatever."

"She had an interview at that club the day she disappeared, again, for the second time."

"Well apparently she never showed up and since skipping an interview is nothing new to them they didn't even keep the application."

"Hey Dean, did you get the friend's number?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I think you should call her."

"And say what, your boyfriend who isn't really your boyfriend should probably get a hold of us. Oh and by the way I'm the guy that gave you his number last night. Just ignore the high pitched girly voice?"

"Dean, this isn't about you not getting laid, this is about the case and undoing this very screwed up thing that's been done to us." Sam smiled "Besides I think I have an address."

"What?"

"Well it was deleted but there is an apartment lease contract. The email was sent less than a month ago."

"So that would have been useful like before I went to the club."

"Sorry, you just really liked the ideal of strippers. Who am I to stop you?"

"Shut up," Dean rolled his eyes, "Alright, let's go."

The apartment was easy to find, easy to get into, and unfortunately empty. Dean checked the rooms his gun out but he didn't think he'd need it. An ashtray sat on the edge of the table. Dean looked at it and cocked his head to the side as something started falling into place.

"Hey Sam?" He asked without looking away from the ashtray, "how many people do you know that smoke black cigarettes?"

"Is that a metaphor?"

Dean gestured to the ash tray. Several black cigarette butts fill the otherwise empty ceramic tray.

"None," Sam was pulling his hair up into a pony tail holder though most of it was escaping.

"I know one."

A loud knock at the door was unexpected to say the least. Dean looked at Sam, then to the door before getting up and opening it a fraction of an inch. Gun hidden behind his back. There was a girl on the other side, she looked skittish and her eyes never settling in one place for very long. When she looked over her shoulder Dean opened the door. She turned abruptly back to face him. Her words were calm though when they came out, "I heard you were looking for me."

"And where did you hear that exactly?"

"I have friends," she glared but the tightness in the way she was holding herself spokes volumes. She was clearly scared, nervous. Jittery as fuck.

Dean opened the door wider and stepped aside in a silent invitation. She slipped past him. Before the door could close a second girl joined them.

"Good to see you again so soon," Dean said smiling at her.

Kathy glared at him, "Do I know you?"

"No, guess not. We, um, met. You know what never mind."

"So, Tina?" Dean smiled his best charming smile at her, "mSind telling us what the hell you're running from?"

"Everything," she shrugged then glanced at the door.

"So let's start with who you expect to come after you."

"No one," she said, "I just...it's a habit."

"Why did you come to us knowing we were looking for you?" He was sitting on the couch arm.

"I thought you could help me."

"How?" Sam asked.

"I need to get out of town."

"Come on Tina, I told you I'll help you. You don't need them."

"It's cool Kathy."

"Are you sure?" She looked them over, "if you do anything to hurt her I will kill you."

"Yes ma'am," Dean found himself smiling, a feeling akin to pride burning in his chest. She was fiercely loyal.

"Not yet, first you need to call up your professor friend and the two of you need to work your magic and get us back into our bodies."

"You're...oh," She worked her mouth a few times like she was trying to come up with something to say and words just failed her, "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I mean I saw you at the club and..." She let her eye skim over him appraising, "are you sure you want to change back, I mean, I'm not sure it's even possible."

"Yes," Sam practically growled at her.

"It's just that you seem so comfortable on stage. I thought you were made for it."

"I think that was suppose to be a compliment so I'm going to let it slide," Dean said smiling at her.

"Good, it was suppose to be one."

"So will you help or not?" Sam asked leaning forward slightly.

"I'll help." She smiled at him, "but, I think you should know even if we get a reversal, I'm not taking it. I finally have exactly what I want. "

"That's your business," Dean said, "me and my brother though, you're going to fix this. Okay."

She nodded, "Yeah, I'm really sorry," she took a breath. "I'm not sure how long it's going to take. My original notes were destroyed. I'll have to do a lot of the work over from scratch."

"How long?"

"I don't know," she looked at him sadly, "this wasn't suppose to happen. It was suppose to be over when I left." She looked at her friend, "After I do this I'm leaving town."

"I'll come with you."

"No you have a good life here. I don't want to mess that up for you."

Tina was dropped off at the lab promising quick results. They had been in the hotel for an eternity. Sam refused to go out for anything short of more beer. Dean shook his head but honestly couldn't think of a reason to break the pattern. They were watching a movie dean sprawled out on his bed, Sam sitting at the table his leg bouncing abruptly in time to some internal tick. Sam jumped up abruptly knocking a book off the table.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just" he glanced toward the bathroom.

"It's been three days, if you gotta piss just go do it. You don't have to look like you're about to have a heart attack." Sam nodded and slipped through the door leaning back against it when it closed behind him.

Dean was still sitting at the table when Sam finally came out of the bathroom. Dean noticed two things right off the first was that Sam was shaking, the second was that he had pulled his hair back and looked like he was about ready to bolt. "Sammy?" Dean didn't know what else to say. He knew Sam was having a hard time adjusting but this was temporary. He knew that right? Dean realized that he didn't know if Sam knew that. Sure he'd heard them say it but he didn't know if Sam believed it. "You do know this is temporary right? Just a few more days and everything will be back to normal I promise."

"I have to go out for a little while."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No!" he said it a little harsher than he meant it, "no, I just need some air."

"Whatever you need. Make sure you take your phone there are a lot of freaks out there."

Dean shrugged his jacket on. "Let's go Sammy!" He called to where Sam was still in the bathroom.

"Dude, what took you so long?"

"If you want details. I could give you them." '

"No, just we need to hit the road."

"I'm not going anywhere. Maybe not ever."

"You okay Sammy?"

"I am so far from okay," Sam muttered laying on the couch a pillow over his face, "I'm tired, Craving Chocolate, I'm emotional, and I honestly think if it gets any hotter in here I'm going to melt."

"So typical chick stuff," Dean smiled, "that's okay, you stay, lounge around here, do whatever you want. I'll be back later. We're gonna fix this."

"Sure Dean."

"You'll see," Dean said smiling, "seriously though, you should at least break it in before you lose the chance. Totally up to you, but this is literally the only chance you will ever have."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked ignoring what Dean was implying.

"Out," He smiled, "I've got a gig."

"You're what? A professional stripper now?"

"Don't knock it. This is the easiest cash I've ever made," Dean had his hand on the door knob. "Have fun." and with that he was gone.

Dean was tired, his muscles ached from putting them through paces he'd never considered. Dancing was a lot harder than it looked. He yawned in annoyance when his phone went off minutes after his head hit the pillow. Dean answered it without thinking.

"Hello?"

"Is this Dean Winchester's phone?"

"Yes, this is Dean's phone," sarcasm leaking into the words. He glanced down and realized he didn't sound at all like himself, "Dean's a little busy at the minute,"

"Tell him I have a job for him. He should call me back when he get's his pants on."

"That might be a while," he said knowing the caller would completely miss the joke. Dean smiled, this was exactly the kind of thing him and Sam needed right now. To do the normal thing until this very not normal thing passed.

"What kind of job?"

"It's really best if I don't discuss it with anyone else."

"Yeah, I got that by job you actually meant hunt."

"Oh."

"So are you going to give me the details to pass along and maybe he'll call you back? Or am I going to forget this call ever happened."

"Look woman. I know you probably think you can run with the big dogs, and maybe you're out to prove yourself to your boyfriend, but I don't want some skirt messing this up worse then it already is."

"Tell me about the damn job," he practically growled into the phone.

"What the hell" Dean could practically hear him shrug, "you get yourself killed it ain't on me."

"Sure."

"Alright. I may have given a guy a spell to talk to his dead wife, that may have backfired and possibly got him killed."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"I didn't think it would actually work but he was desperate and refused to leave so I pulled something out of one of the books and he left. But now he's dead and people have claimed to see her in the house. So if there is a ghost there it's because I told him how to raise it. I normally wouldn't call. But I don't know how to handle this."

"No, you made the right choice," he shook his head, "not with telling him how to raise it. That was a stupid choice, but calling me. That was smart. I just happen to be the best in the business."

"Dean's the best in the business."

"Well who do you think he learned all his tricks from?"

"John."

"Fair enough. Just trust me, we can handle this."

"Right, well when Dean gets a chance tell him to give me a call."

"Will do," the phone landed on the bed, "sexist jackass."

"Come on Sammy, I found a job," He shook Sam's leg to wake him up.

"You can't be serious."

"Come on Princess, simple salt and burn a few towns over."

"Dean, we can't hunt like this."

"Sure we can. Jo did."

"Jo almost got herself killed."

"She did alright," Dean said, "besides we have something Jo didn't. Experience. Lot's of it," he winked and it might have been meant innocently but it seemed vaguely dirty.

They kept the hotel room, paid it up a couple days in advance just in case they were late getting back. Hung a do not disturb sign on the door and climbed in the impala. Dean started the engine and felt the vibration through the seat. He grinned gunning the engine.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked alarmed at the trembling that the growl caused in the pit of his stomach.

"Testing a theory, and yeah, I totally get it now."

"Dude, I don't even want to know."

"I think you already do." Dean said grinning as he dropped it into reverse and turned to look over the back seat. He swung the car around and readjusted the mirror long enough to wink at his reflection.

"You are having way too much fun with this," Sam said in slight disgust.

"Once in a life time experience," Dean said for the umpteenth time, "hell less than that even. We might be the only people in history to have a bonafide chance to live on the other side for a couple weeks.

"Weeks?" Sam's voice came out a terrified squeak.

"Oh, chill out princess. It probably won't take that long."

The drive was long and they fell into their normal patterns Dean turning the radio up too loud and singing along. Sam laying his head on the passenger side door and drifted in and out of sleep. The sun started setting and the glint of gold caught his attention. Sam opened his eyes slightly and for a moment forgot where he was and why. Brownish blond waves caught the fading light. Framed in the hot pink and fire orange of the sunset. She was rocking an imaginary drum set while listening to god knew what pumping out of the speakers. Dean was going to kill her. The thought came and brought reality back with it. Dean was her. She was Dean. He felt the ice water of the realization burn through his veins and wanted whiskey to wash it away with.

God he was so fucked up.

He let his eyes drift closed trying to fight down the bile rising in his throat.

"You okay?" The radio went down almost instantly.

"I'm fine," he didn't open his eyes though, didn't see the concern written in the bright green depth. He knew the look, he didn't have to see it on this prettier face to see it in his mind's eye. It was probably better that way.

"You just looked like you were in pain."

"I'm fine." Sam said again. "Just pull over at a gas station or something okay?"

"You don't have fever or anything?" Dean asked. A warm hand reaching over to rest on Sam's cheek.

"Damn it Dean. I said I'm fine, get your hand off me."

"Sorry," Dean pulled it back and started to reach for the volume knob again, "hey Sammy, whatever your problem is do me a favor and get the fuck over it." Any retort was lost as the radio was cranked back up to full volume.

They found the house easily, it was especially helpful since Dean had the address written down.

"So what do you say we head in and see what's going on?"

"How about we do this smart or we turn around and go back to the motel," Sam said, "You already know the name of the ghost, so let's just go find the grave, salt and burn, and head out of here."

"Well I would but see this ghost was raised by magic. I'm pretty sure that kind of spell requires at least some form of remains to keep from getting just any ghost that happens to want to tag along. So maybe we should check the house for the spell work before we go burning a random corpse. I mean does that sound smart to you Princess?"

"I um," Sam shook his head at a temporary loss for words. Of course he already knew that. Hell it was practically standard mode of operation at this point, but still it pissed him off. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"You know you could just hang in the car. If you're not feeling up to it."

"I'm fine," he said again. This time a little less heat in the words, he actually sounded exhausted, "I'm just ready for this to be over with."

The house was nice, two story, painted white with a greyish blue trim, didn't really look anything at all like a 'haunted' house. It was just a place. Someone's home once upon a time.

The front door was unlocked. That made them pause for a second. Then Dean shrugged and pushed open the door, "hello?"

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Sam asked following him in.

"Relax," Dean said closing the door behind them, "no one's here." He pulled out their reader and swung it around the room. "Nothing,"he said not bothering to whisper.

"Well he didn't die in here." Sam shrugged, "maybe they'll be something in his office."

"Right." Dean picked a direction and headed in it. He stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"What do you want to be it's up there."

"Dean, seriously man, have you ever even seen a horror movie."

"Dude, we live them."

"Yeah, and right now you're the dumb blond that runs up the stairs. Just don't okay."

"Sure, fine, we'll check down here first," He pulled out his gun, "do dumb blonds usually carry salt rounds?"

"No."

"Alright, I'm heading up, you coming? Or are you going to cower down here where it's safe?"

Dean headed up the stairs. Sam followed pulling the knife out of his pocket. A scrapping noise to the left at the top of the stairs drew their attention. Dean turned toward him and shrugged lifting the gun so Sam could see it. Sam shrugged knife at the read. A hand on the door knob and it was pushed open. Dean dropped the gun behind his back instantly standing up straighter. Sam followed suit palming his knife into the sleeve of his shirt. Ready to drop back into his hand at a moments notice.

"Oh, great, you're here," The girl in the room said still tugging on the large dresser forcing it to move just a few more inches.

"Um, hi," Dean said shrugging.

"Great, can you grab that side of the dresser. I need it to go about three feet to the left."

"Sure," Dean said lowering his shirt over the gun as he walked into the room. His eyes trailed over her easily. A black tank top tucked into jeans that looked almost painted on. She was wearing tennis shoes that had seen almost as many miles as the impala. Over all the image was undeniably attractive.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam," he gestured through the door.

"Oh, I thought you were guys."

"Now why would you think something like that?" He asked tensing a sudden feeling of mistrust settling into his nerves.

"Well when I got the call from dad's friend he said he would send out some guys to help clean the place up I assumed he meant actual guys. You have to admit. 'Dean' is kind of masculine name."

"Well it's short for Deana," he smiled, "I was named after my grandma on my mom's side, so yeah, I shortened it."

"And 'Sam'?''

He shrugged, "how many Samantha's have you met?"

"Point taken."

"Alright, are you sure you can handle this. I mean some of this stuff is pretty heavy."

"We can handle it," Sam said his eyes fixed glaring on Dean like he wanted to hit him.

"You sure princess? I mean you can always wait in the car if you want."

Sam's fist clenched. He was going to punch him before this was over. The rage that he normally kept on such a tight leash was practically boiling under his skin and Dean was intentionally pushing him.

"I got it Dean. I'd hate for you to break a nail."

"That might suck," he admitted and laughed because this had really taken a turn for the ridiculous. They helped her rearrange furniture and pack boxes. Finally the girl cleared her throat, "We only need to get the bedrooms done today, then we'll start on the downstairs rooms tomorrow morning."

The last box was stacked in the corner of the living room. They were sweating and tired but it was a start. The sun had gone down a couple hours before and it was definitely time for a break.

"I'm meeting up with some friends later at the bar, you two want to come with?"

"Friends?" Dean gestured at the stack of boxes, "they couldn't help you move."

"Well we're not the best of friends but we drink together occasionally," She smiled, "I'll even buy you a drink and make sure you don't go home with any of the local creeps."

"Trust me, we won't be going home with anyone," Dean said. "What do you think Sammy?"

"Okay," Sam shrugged and asked, "What time?"

"Oh, around nine I guess is when the party usually really gets started."

"We'll be there." Dean said, "So I'm still sober for it, what time do you want to meet back here in the morning?"

"I usually try to sleep in but I guess I'll just have to get over it." She ran a hand through her hair. "Depending on how tonight goes about noon would probably be best," the light from the lamp caught in just a way that made the dark circles under her eyes seem deeper parts of the shadows.

"If you want we could get up here a little before that and get started, I mean if you want to rest, you can tell us what you want done, and we can work on it until you get here. I mean, if you don't mind leaving us the house key so we can get started," Sam said.

"That would be great." She said, "When we get this done I'll take you through the rest of the house and show you my plans."

The clock on the wall said eight when they showed up at the bar. She was already there sitting at a table in the corner watching a muted tv play sports highlights, "I'll never understand the appeal of men to surround themselves with other men and then use violence to pretend they aren't interested in them."

"Uh, sure." Dean said shrugging, "I don't get it either."

"I'll buy the first round," she offered, "since you did help me out today, any after that. Well, you only have to pay if you really want to." She pointed over his shoulder. Dean turned to see a guy leering at him.

"Not really my type." He said sliding in next to her, his arm dropping instinctively over the back of the chair possessively. A half a bottle of jack later he leaned over the table grabbing Sam's arm, "Hey, Sammy, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yeah, actually, we have somewhere to be," he tried to remind Dean that they did still need to check out the house when nobody was in it. "We've got that thing we really needed to do."

"Oh, yeah that, _thing," _Dean nodded turning back to the girl, "see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She said taking another shot and washing it down with something carbonated, "or when you get done with your thing, you could come back, and have round two."

"Nice work with that key." Dean said Slipping his hand into his pocket to caress a fingertip over the warm metal.

"Stroke of brilliance," Sam agreed, "I just feel bad for her. She has no ideal what happened."

"I don't know it's starting to look like whatever happened is gone."

"Dean, this is still a case. I can feel it. I'm just not sure we're looking in the right place."

"Still want to bail?"

"No, we'll stick around, see it through. Maybe I'm wrong, but if I'm not then she's in danger and we can't just leave her there."

"That's my Sammy," Dean grinned and Sam noticed how that smile made his light up. Sam looked away before Dean could notice him staring.

"Yeah, just hopefully this is done before we have to head back."

"We'd have to stay until the jobs done."

"No," Sam said, "the second they have the cure we're heading back. I don't care if you're holding the lighter over the corpse when it happens."

"What happened to saving people?"

"You can drop it while we leave."

"Damn that's cold. Even for you."

"Bite me," He said Curling up against the door "I'm going to sleep, wake me up when you're ready to head back in there."

"Sure." Dean promised. Sam might have been asleep ten minutes before dean slid out of the drivers seat carefully closing the door behind him. "Sure." He said again taking a breath. He had something to prove and this was his chance to prove it.

It was too quiet. Sam felt it all the way through, he knew something was off but the layers of sleep kept him weighted down. He woke up jumping for the handle of the door even before he was fully awake. He knew two things for absolute certain; Dean and gone in without waking him up, and Dean was in trouble.

The door was locked when he twisted the knob. He felt into his pocket. "Shit," he knew before trying that he had handed the key to Dean almost as soon as she had given it to him.

"Fuck." He muttered pulling out the lock pick. The eerie quiet of the house had his nerves on edge. Dean was probably fine. He was probably over reacting. His mind rebelled against the word hormonal even as he thought it. He wasn't hormonal, he was worried. There was a serious difference. The lock clicked open and he pushed the door in slipping into the dark house.

"Dean," He whispered the name to the silent house, not sure where to start. Probably upstairs. He pulled out the gun, then slipped up the stairs being especially careful to step over the one that creaked at the top. If Dean really was in trouble it wouldn't do any good for him to give himself away this soon. He heard something that sounded like someone crying. He eased open the door. It was too dark for him to see anything. The sound was suddenly much louder. Though it sounded less like crying and more like panting. He stepped through the door easing it until it met the frame but didn't click closed. He let his eyes adjust to the dark.

Dean stood in the middle of the room. Okay so he wasn't so much standing there as he was pinned there with what looked like rope imbedded in the ceiling. He did the math as lightening quick as he could. Four shots. Assuming he hit every time. He couldn't see whatever Dean was staring at it was behind the dresser they had moved earlier, but he could see Dean and the faint glimmer of something wet in his hair just above his ear. The long locks were matted with it but it looked like it was drying. Christ how long had he been asleep. The rope around his wrist twitched snaking tighter around him. Dean's breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He panted harder but he didn't scream.

"Do your worst bitch," Dean growled through his clenched teeth.

The laughter was hallow and brittle, the wheezing laughter of someone without a voice. Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. What if the ghost wasn't the wife. What if it were someone else who had remains in this house? In the room where he cast the spell? What if they brought back the wrong ghost? He shifted closer to the dresser risking peeking around the corner. The darkness really wasn't doing him any favors. He aimed roughly where he thought it's head would be and fired. Three rapid bursts popped off on a life time of instinct. He was moving before the last shot was fired. Knife out and slicing through the ropes around his brother's arms. They gave easily in a sickening snap that sounded wet.

The ones around his ankles were sliced through in similar quick precise swipes. Dean fell almost onto him. Sam had a moment of calm at the familiarity. Just like a hundred times before when he'd been the one to pull the girl out of the fire. He rubbed his hand over the abused skin. Dean's eyes met his, grinned, whispered, "Hello gorgeous," then winked.

"Are you stoned?" Sam asked actually curious.

"No," He smiled, "I'm just happy to see you."

"You shouldn't have come in here without me," Sam wanted to shake him for being so stupid, "we have to get out of here."

"I've got the bitch." Dean said, "give me your gun."

"Dean, it's not her." He yelled trying to make him understand, "We have to get out of here."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. trust me, we missed something." Relief was a physical thing when Dean started moving with him.

They were running out the door when the house seemed to shiver around them. Not sure whether it was encouraging them out or trying to trap them inside Sam threw open the front door and practically shoved Dean down the stairs and toward the safety of Baby.

"Damn it Sam, I had it under control." Dean was pacing, "you should have waited in the car."

"And let you get yourself killed to prove a point?"

"Yes damn it."

"No," Sam said flatly, "another minute and that thing would have killed you. I can't do this without you and your pride almost got you killed. We don't hunt alone for that reason. You taught me that." Sam was trying to hold his attention to make him see how stupid it had been without flat out saying it but it seemed like dean wasn't going to listen to reason.

"It was suppose to be an easy case, end the spell, destroy the remains, send the ghost packing."

"When have our lives ever been simple?" Sam asked smiling. It wasn't a happy smile. If anything it was the smile of someone tired all the way through to their bones.

They were quiet for long enough that it seemed the conversation had ended, "I mean really how many people could it be?"

"I don't know, I was going to go look into the history of the house tomorrow and see if there were any deaths there."

"Right, other than the girl."

Sam nodded agreement, that part was obvious. "Crap," Sam said.

"What?"

"We're suppose to meet her there in the morning to help pack up the other rooms."

"Shit." Dean understood instantly what Sam was getting at, "okay so hit the computer see if you can find anything that might be haunting the house. Either way I want that thing cleared out of there."

"You could call her, talk her into postponing?"

"and say what? That we think at least one pissed off ghost has taken up residence there? That it's too dangerous for her to go pack up the boxes? What am I suppose to say to her."

"I don't know you usually think of something."

"I usually think of alcohol or sex." Dean laughed, "I don't think...now there's an ideal."

"No Dean, you can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

Sam gestured in his general direction but didn't comment.

"Never know until you try." Dean grinned again, "could be fun." He grabbed his jacket, "right you research I'm going to distract a girl."

"Keep your phone on," Sam threw it to him, "look just don't, don't be an ass."

"I'm not," Dean held his hands open the gesture that practically said _Come one Sammy what do you expect from me. _

"Whatever," Sam muttered, "look, just drop me back off at the room and you can go back to the bar."

"Don't you think that would be a little strange if we left for the night at ten and I came back at one?"

"I don't know man, just tell her you missed her or something. I'm sure you can figure something out."

"Hey, Sam, I'm going to need you to come get me."

"Who is this?" He asked half asleep.

"Dean." He was clearly irritated, "I might have gotten into a slight complication."

"Where are you?"

"I'm really not sure," there was a quiet thump a muttered curse and he said "I'll meet you at the bar."

"Dean? Where's your car?"

"Still at the bar."

"Right. And where are you?"

"Above the bar. Apparently there's an apartment up here. That's convenient."

"And the girl?"

"She's here." He said and there was a smile.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh believe me, I can't make this kind of stuff up." He whispered, "now come get me."

"If the car's there why don't you just drive?"

"Because I ...just come get me."

"I'll be right there." Sam said not even stopping to consider what he might be walking into.

The impala was parked near the door. She seemed fine. He popped the trunk and grabbed the knife pocketing it. He walked through the front door. And the bartender glanced up. "I'm looking for Dean."

The guy gestured toward the stairs already shaking his head. There didn't seem to be anyone down there, nothing even remotely resembling a threat.

Sam crept up the stairs slightly uncomfortable at the thought of leaving the crowd from the bar behind him.

He had his knife out slipping through the hall at the top of the stairs. Dean had said there was one apartment up here but from the looks of the numbers on the doors there was at least 4. He didn't really want to be the one to knock on random doors in the middle of the night especially considering the kind of crowd this type of place clearly drew. He pulled out his cell phone when Dean opened a door and slipped into the hall with him. "Come on." He said pulling on his coat. "What?"

"What?" He turned "Dean you called me in the middle of the night to come get you."

"trust me Sammy, you do not want to know what just happened in that room."

"Seriously man? Talk to me."

"Sure, just not here okay?"

The car apparently wasn't any better for talking. Dean slid into the passenger seat and threw Sam the keys. "I'm going to sleep."

Back at their room he barely said two words before slipping into the bathroom. Sam crawled back into bed. The warmth lulling him to sleep almost instantly. Dean eased the bathroom door open checking to make sure he was asleep before he finally relaxed. God that was a mistake. He knew he shouldn't have called Sam. But to be honest he had panicked and his first thought was Sam could help.

He pulled out the flash drive he had managed to nab. And plugged it into Sam's computer. Then went through the flash drive. "Shit." He muttered. He pasted all of the drives contents into a file on the desktop and stashed the computer back where he'd found it.

"Wake up Sam." He practically barked.

"What the hell is your problem," a very sleep deprived Sam muttered.

"So I've got to go back to the bar."

"Okay. Why?"

"Because I think that the girl I went home with last night might be our witch. And I really don't want her to get pissed off at me."

"You're joking right?"

"Check the folder on your desktop. He lifted the flash drive.

"So you stole from the pissed off ghost raising witch?" Sam shook his head, "boy you know how to pick 'em."

"What can I say?" He winked, "even like this I'm just damn near irresistible."

Sam shook his head trying not to laugh because it really, really wasn't funny.

"We're going to have to break into her house," Sam said, "I bet that's where she'll have whatever she's using to control the ghost."

"Great, so you need me to distract her for a few hours?" He licked his lip looking pleased with the ideal.

"Don't strain yourself." Sam shifted uncomfortably, "alright, you go work over Sabrina, I'll see if I can figure out how to reverse the spell."

"Good plan." Dean said then stopped, "Hey, chicks dig breakfast in bed right?"

"Dude, no one wants breakfast at 3:30 in the morning."

Sam wasn't sure what he was looking for. He pulled the too long hair up and twisted it into a tight knot. A flashlight was jammed between his teeth as he worked the lock over. It gave in easily and he slipped into the dark interior of the house. A blast of frigid air knocked the air out of his lungs.

He hesitated knowing he had the right place. He took a breath to calm himself and stepped through the door he let it close behind him. Flinching slightly at the sound. He wordlessly repeated don't be the dumb blond chick under his breath hoping that awareness would keep him safer. It was a ridiculous thought but it was just one more on a mountain of ridiculous thoughts.

He was unfamiliar with the layout of the house but it didn't matter. The place reeked of stale herbs and burned out incense. He followed that hoping it lead him in the right direction. On the kitchen counter half concealed behind a make shift folding screen was a crude alter. A book was closed in the middle of it surrounded by candles and a bowl with sooty reside inside. A bright red book mark with a beaded fringe was pressed in the pages. He hoped it was the last spell cast as he flipped it opened and scanned the words. It was like it was written in four different languages flowing between them in seamlessly. The words he may have recognized but the grammatical style was seemingly random. He hoped he could decipher it quickly and be done with the whole thing. Rather than copying it down or stealing the book and tipping her off to his presence he pulled out his phone and snapped pictures of the pages. He checked to make sure he could read all of it including the previous and following pages and carefully replaced everything exactly the way that he had found it.

It was much later when Dean finally showed up a tired smile on his lips. "So what did you find out?"

Sam looked him over, "You feeling okay?"

"Great. Why?"

"Well, when you left here, you were heading back to keep from pissing off your lesbian witch lover." Like that was an explanation enough in itself.

"Oh, that, no we're good."

"Dean?"

"Come on Sammy, can't a guy just go out and have some fun without it being the end of the world."

"Not when it's you," Sam said, "not when you know she's probably going to hex your ass if you screw up."

"Right," He slide onto the bed in a boneless heap, "Well, happy chicks don't hex people."

"Happy?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded rolling over and grinning with a blissed out look on his face, "trust me, she's happy."

"And she knows you left."

"Absolutely." Dean ran his hand through his tangled hair then looked at it disgusted before he pushed it out of his eyes. "How the hell do you deal with this?" He sat up and changed the subject again, "let me tell you something. There are two things I know, one Bert and Ernie are gay, and two, exactly how to leave a girl wanting more."

"Are you ever serious? About anything?"

"I'm serious right now. Oh, and something else I know." He said swinging his leg off the bed to sit straddling the edge of it. "She's definitely our girl."

"And you slept with her anyways. Again."

"Even bad sex is still pretty good, and she's damn good."

"Sometimes I feel like I should hit you with a rolled up news paper."

"That sounds kinky." He grinned, "Want to keep me on a leash to?"

Sam forced his eyes away from the girl in front of him leaning forward with one hand wrapped around her throat like she was imagining a leather collar there. Her eyes were closed in what looked like pleasure. The mantra in his head picked back up _still dean. Still dean. Still dean. _Then something new crossed his mind.

"Did you take something."

"no," He said.

"Did you take something accidentally?"

Dean rolled his eyes at him, "Just a lot of alcohol, and a lot of sex, and she did some stuff that I'm not even sure what it was, but it feels great."

"Dean, seriously, why would you think I want to hear this?"

"I'm not sure." He said rolling his shoulders in a way that made him look totally relaxed and half out of it. "Hey Sammy, do you mind if I take a nap."

"Sure Dean." He said feeling pretty freaked out now himself, "Look, I'm going to read the stuff you left on my computer. You just let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks Sammy," a smile crossed his lips, "You're the best you know that?"

"Whatever," Sam said god he was weird.

Dean crawled up the bed and pulled the pillow down between his knees. Reaching for the blanket that was still half under him tugging it ineffectively.

"Just stop." Sam muttered going to help.

"Thanks." Dean whispered already drifting off to sleep. "Hey."

"Yeah?" Sam stopped by the bed tucking the blanket around the small frame.

"You're really special to me. You know that?"

"I know."

"No. no you fucking don't." The eyes that met his were angry now.

"Look, I...god I'm tired and really, really..." he hummed then continued "drunk."

"I couldn't tell." Sam said helpfully.

"No, shut up. I need to say this."

"Okay so say it." Sam said.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, for everything, for all of this. For getting you into this mess, for pissing off the lesbian witch, for Jess and Mom and Dad and everything that has ever happened. If I could fix it I would."

"I know." He said softly trying to ignore the ache that came with those memories.

"You're all I have Sammy, you and baby and she's just a car."

"Love you to, now go to sleep."

"Sleep sounds nice," Dean was unconscious in the next second. At least it seemed like a natural sleep rather than passing out. He just sort of drifted off while talking. Sam shook his head and moved to the laptop. He clicked the file that dean had copied to his computer. It did look like Dean was right about the girl.

Sam pretty much could guess how to end the spell. If the ghosts were in the house then chances were the spell had been performed there. He'd just have to find whatever remains were used to bind the ghosts and burn them. Cake. He hoped.

They were back in the house for the second time in two days. This time it was work. Dean moved boxes with a careful step that he was trying really hard not to think about too much. The hardest part though was the way the girl kept watching every move Dean made. The predatory lust in her eyes was making his skin crawl. Sam's may have slithered a little in sympathy. Still he had been smart and had made a copy of the key. If they managed to get a chance again Dean could keep her busy while Sam took care of the ghost. He still wasn't sure he would even be able to like this but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try his damnedest. And if it got him killed? He tried to pretend he didn't care.

If she noticed the cracked plaster from the trouble her ghost had caused she didn't seem to notice lightly stepping over the cracks in the floor boards. And the chunks of plaster practically embedded in the yellowed linoleum.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes away from the damage.

"Do you, um, know what happened in here?"

"Kids." She shrugged, "I forgot to lock the door apparently some dumb kids thought vandalism would be funny."

"Did you catch them?"

"Not yet. But I will." She winked at him, "want to give me a hand when I do?"

"Sure." he tried to smile but it was forced.

"Great," she turned and pointed at the kitchen "I thought we'd start in there today."

Twenty minutes later they realized they couldn't find the packing tape. "I'll run get some." Sam offered without thinking about it. The looks between the two of them were starting to grate on his nerves.

He got back to find them on a dust covered couch. Hands wrapped around Dean's waist. Pink lipstick rubbing off on his neck. "Um, Dean." Sam cleared his throat holding up the tape.

"You can start without us." She said smiling sweetly.

"You heard the lady Sammy."

"Yeah, sure." Sam heading toward the kitchen. Five minutes later they joined him. Sam started on the spice shelf pulling down the spices and stacking them neatly into the box.

His elbow hit the corner of the shelf knocking over the salt.

"Shit." She yelped jumping out of the way.

Sam's eyes went wide. She avoided the salt. Like didn't even try to hide it.

"Sorry" She said blushing "I'm just really superstitious about stuff like that."

"No problem." Sam said feigning calm as he bent down and picked some up off the ground. He sprinkled it over his shoulder and she smiled. He scooped up a little more and threw it at her. She jumped in surprise but that was it.

"What the hell?"

"Sorry." He said. Looking at Dean to see what he thought about it. Dean seemed completely disinterested. He was staking plates into a box marked "extremely fragile." She turned and picked one of them up. "You know I always hated these." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "so if that box were to get dropped, I wouldn't be too upset." He dropped the plate on top of the stack already in the box. It cracked down the middle."

"Oops." He said with a pleased grin, "I guess I'm a little clumsy."

"Hmm. Must run in the family." she laughed with him.

"I guess it does." Sam agreed feeling a little pissed off but not sure why.

"What else runs in the family?" She asked moving toward Sam with a calculated deliberateness separating his line of sight from Dean. She pushed his hair behind his ear, "I think we should do a comparison."

"Seriously?" He asked, "you can't actually think that's going to work? One, we don't share, and two"

"so you're strictly into boys?" She asked cutting him off. For a moment he thought he may have read her wrong. "that's okay." She said softly "lucky for you, so am I." She winked and the air went out of his lungs. How could she know that? How did she know that? He glared at Dean over her shoulder but he seemed completely wrapped up in stacking plates into the box. After the first one though he didn't seem to be intentionally breaking any more of them.

A couple hours and half the kitchen later they took a break. She made an excuse about needing to head to her house to check on some things. Leaving them on their own to find lunch for the three of them.

"Why the hell would you tell her?" Sam asked trying to keep calm.

"Um, okay, I'm not following." Dean said, "pretty sure we weren't exactly talking last night."

"Dean, she knows."

"What did she say?"

"You were right there how did you not hear what she said?"

"Humor me." He said.

"Um she came onto me in one breath and told me she only likes boys in the next."

"you're reading too much into it." Dean said, "She probably just thought you were freaked out by her flirting and tried to make you feel better."

"That's not what happened."

"How sure are you?"

"Damn it Dean will you fucking listen to me. There is something weird about her. Like our kind of weird."

"Well," Dean smirked, "she is definitely my kind of weird. Let me tell, I thought I was good, she can do tricks with her tongue I never even dreamed of."

Sam moved past him to the stack of newspapers for wrapping cups. A quick fold later and it landed against the side of Dean's face, "Do me a favor, never tell me that kind of shit again."

"What the hell man? You have got to lighten up."

"I warned you." Sam rolled the paper tighter and stuck it in his back pocket. Before heading for the door. "

"Call it a learning experience," he was clearly happy with wherever that thought had taken him.

"Okay, I'm not sure what the hell you're doing, but we have a case here, you're the one that insisted we should still hunt rather than taking time off. That's what I'm focused on, finding this ghost and the person controlling it because that's what _we _do. We help people. We don't bang potentially evil chicks."

"Dude, that's like all we do." Dean grinned

Sam ignored him.

Dean managed to stumble through the door. "Night," he muttered falling onto the bed.

"Don't you want to know what I found?"

"No," he said, "because I just had the best night of my life and you are going to ruin it with whatever comes out of your mouth. So just no."

"I'll tell you in the morning then," Sam said. Normally he may have pushed it but until he was sure about the spell and the reversal of it there wasn't much that knowing would help Dean with, "just do me a favor, don't piss her off."

"Believe me, she is happy."

Sam made a disgusted sound but his heart really wasn't in it. Dean was just Dean. The way he had always been.

"Got it." Sam finally finished copying down the final line and it's English translation. The sun had risen about half an hour before and he was steadily rubbing his eyes trying to stay awake. He glanced over at the bed where Dean was sleeping. His body was wrapped around a pillow hair splayed out in a wavy tangled mess. Sam smiled fondly watching the way he ground moved in his sleep. It was weirdly familiar despite not looking anything like himself. Sam closed the laptop and marked the page in the notebook before closing it as well. He put things up liking the feeling of control that came with order.

He threw a blanket over Dean and crawled into his own bed. Despite being exhausted he found himself watching the seconds tick by on the clock by the bed. He rolled over to face the other direction hoping the blank wall would offer him some relief from the thoughts buzzing through his head.

Sleep finally came but it wasn't restful.

Sam found himself in another nondescript motel room like countless ones before. The clock on the wall perpetually stuck on some time that held no meaning to him. He pulled himself out of bed and went to look out the window. A vacant field was all he could see. So the parking lot must be on the other side of the building. The side without windows. The thought made him uncomfortable for some reason he couldn't place.

"I know what you are," a voice whispered close to his ear making him jump in surprise.

It was the ghost they had seen in her house but it couldn't do that. He didn't bring any remains home with him. There was no way that it had followed him. If she could guess his inner panic she didn't show it. Cracked teeth showing in a predatory grin her ice fingers trailing around his neck pressing painfully into the pulse point. He felt his head was swimming as she slowly cut the circulation down to a trickle. His lips started to tingle yet she kept staring at him intensely holding him paralyzed in her grip.

"I know." She whispered again much quieter, less a predator now and more a conspirator. "Dirty boy." Her eyes ran down to his feet and back up. A black tongue wet powder white lips, "it doesn't matter how noble you try to pretend you are, I know. We all know." She leaned in closer, "your veins run with sludge." She whispered "It's just a matter of time until you give into it."

"No," he whispered barely able to force the words out of his dead lips. And maybe it was better that way.

"give in Sammy." She whispered her voice dropping to a low purr. "revel in it. You deserve it. You deserve everything. Every pleasure that can be felt. Every luxury that can be taken. Every desire you've told yourself you shouldn't want. It's all yours to take."

"Dean," He said trying to pull air into his starving lungs. Whatever he was going to finish the thought with was lost in her wild eyed cackle.

"Well, if that's what you want."

The absurdity of the comment left him dazed. Or maybe that was the oxygen deprivation.

"I can't let Dean down" he whispered suddenly no longer drowning. Though his skin still prickled and tingled telling him the circulation was still wrong.

The body shimmered and he felt the pressure let off. Then it reformed only he was looking up now into hazel eyes. His hand lifted of it's own accord brushing over the familiar curve of his cheek bone. His thumb brushed the mole he'd only ever seen in his reflection. "Hi," He whispered.

"Miss me?" The voice sounded dead, like something was missing.

"More than you'd believe." He was smiling and couldn't help it feeling giddy, feeling high on something he couldn't explain.

Sam woke up to dean throwing a pillow at him. "Dude, what in the hell were you dreaming."

"What?"

'"You were whimpering."

He rolled over rubbing his eyes. "That was a weird dream."

"What was it?"

"It was...I don't know it's already fading."

"Must not have been too good then."

"Wait, I remember something," he tried to remember what it was the dream had said something about spells. "Not sure what it is though," he couldn't find the memory. It was already lost to him "I need to look something up." He grabbed the print outs from the phone's camera and started searching there was something wrong with the spell. He didn't know how he knew only that he knew.

"It's not a summoning spell." He said finally finding what he wanted.

"So what is it?" Dean asked not actually looking up from the gun he was cleaning.

"It's a banishing spell." He paused "technically it's a summoning spell disguised as a banishing spell"

"Banishing?"

"Apparently your girlfriend is possessed by a ghost."

"She is not my girlfriend." He grinned, "so does that mean I've been in a lesbian threesome."

"You're disgusting."

He shrugged, "making the best of a bad situation." He paused then put down the gun leaning forward slightly "So if she's trying to banish it that means she knows about it."

"Looks like."

"And wants it gone?"

"That's usually what banishing is for."

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that."

"She's going to be pissed."

"I'd rather have her pissed and alive then have her continue blindly powering this thing up."

He handed Dean the phone.

Sam elbowed Dean as they sat down on the couch in front of the tv. It was so painfully normal. Like a thousand other houses they had been in. The message was clear _hurry up. _Dean nodded then stood up "Can we talk?"

"Yeah." Mild concern fleetingly crossing her face. Apparently she was at least a little concerned about what he might say next.

"So, we know," He said laying the card out on the table.

"You know what?" She asked looking between them.

Sam stood up realizing having Dean do this probably wasn't the best ideal. Sometimes he seemed to forget what subtle meant. "We know about the ghost." Sam said "It's okay, we're here to help you."

"I don't need help."

"Really, that's why the banishing spell you tried didn't work?" Sam held his hand up the classic I promise I'm not a threat move and said, "Trust me, we have some experience with this, we really just want to help you."

Sam had everything he needed for the spell. He copied down the version in the spell book and ripped the page out. The ingredients were mixed together then poured into a bowl with a lid to keep them from spilling. Everything was packed into a bag and they headed out.

The house was quiet. Hopefully their ghost was being distracted but that was a lot to hope for. At least this time they knew where what they were looking for was. Sam made the way up stairs Dean following close behind shotgun up and loaded with rock salt. This thing came after them it was going to hurt.

"Sam down." Dean yelled seeing a chair flying through the air. Sam dropped onto the floor. It was far from his most graceful landing. Still it was better than getting hit in the head with a flying chair. Dean pulled the shotgun up and fired as the ghost manifested above Sam. The rock salt imbedded in the wall and it dissipated into the air.

"Got it?" Dean yelled.

"Almost just keep her off me for a few minutes," he yelled back looking for something that might contain remains. He pulled a cigar box out of the top drawer of the desk. Inside a small lock of honey blond hair was in an envelop.

"Got it." He said just as the desk slid across the floor pinning him against the wall. Good thing there wasn't more force behind it. In the movement though the envelop went skittering across the floor. Landing underneath a book shelf. He shoved the desk over. The paper slid off the top and was mixed up with the pile of other papers scattered across the hard wood floor. "Damn it!" he yelled. Throwing the lighter back to Dean. "It's under that shelf."

Dean put another load of rock salt in the back of the ghost and ran for it slipping on one of the scattered pages. His hand slipped underneath the lip of the shelf easily. Dean jerked it back out holding open the envelope. Sam dropped the page from the spell book into it, instead of pulling the hair out. In a movement born of practice and lightening reflexes he caught the end of the envelop with his lighter. And watched as it went up taking the ghost with it.

"See piece of cake." He said grinning, "sometimes good things happen." .

Still panting Sam grabbed his arm, "If you ever say something like that again." Sam shook his head letting him go, "we shouldn't have had that much trouble with one ghost."

"We won so shut up."

Sam let the argument drop hoping that Joanne would call before dean managed to find another case.

"We've got it," The woman's voice on the other end of the line sounded almost as tired as he felt, "I wasn't sure it was going to work but it's been tested and complete 100% reversal."

The line went dead without either of them bothering to say good bye, "hey Sammy, good news. They got the stuff.

"Really? That's great!" Sam rolled off the bed reaching for his shoes before his feet hit the ground. "Come on, the sooner we get this done the better."

They sat on the table side by side each wearing their too large clothes. Dean looked at Sam encouragingly, "hey Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I think I should probably tell you. You were really, really pretty."

"You to," he glanced away, "thank god this is almost over."

"Okay, this is going to hurt," Joanna said pressing a glass syringe against Sam's arm. Tina held another lined up with the vein in Dean's forearm. At the same time they eased the needles into their skin. A thump of metal on metal later and nothing had started happening yet. "I don't think it worked," Dean said just before his vision started blurring. He reached for Sam's arm. A gesture of mutual support for the fucked up thing that was about to happen. Moments later they released their grips as the world seemed to shift around them.

They hadn't expected the sheer amount of pain that accompanied the change. What seemed like hours later but was actually only moments they were standing on the floor breathing heavy, a thin coat of sweat on their skin but they were themselves again.

"Thank god," Sam sighed with relief pulling his sleeve back down.

Joanna stood in the middle of the lab. The files tucked carefully back into her briefcase. She pulled out the individual blood samples and checked that they were all properly labeled before putting them back into the rack. Two more were pulled out of the brief case. Labeled with S. and D. and put in the rack with the rest of the samples.

-the end-


End file.
